Edge of the World
by whiskeycoffee
Summary: Trevor Holden/0115 x Grace Day/0027. Set post-season 3 finale. It's only a matter of time until their timeline is overwritten, and some tensions have yet to be resolved.


**A/N: **

**after season 3 i thirsted for fic so badly only to find that there was almost nothing for these 2 and i cried. and then i decided since this is the first smut for them, that i accept the responsibility and was going to completely go all out. pull out all the stops. and then somehow it got away from me even more. why does this show not have more fic? it's so good crying forever**

**i also noticed this ship isn't super popular (and i usually write gay shit) so several times while writing this i would go stare off into the distance wondering if this is justified and then i rewatched 3x07 and i was like no, no. this ship snatched my soul and made me yearn for fic so badly.**

**also trevor holden is my sweet precious soft boy who deserves the whole world & and to be frank i can't tell if my heart eyes are more directed at grace day and her massive personality or the actress who plays her because holy shit she's the hottest person i've ever seen in my life**

* * *

Trevor and Carly had been the ones who carried the bodies down into the van. Trevor had offered to be the one to take care of it once he had closed the van doors, but Carly stubbornly resisted his help at every step. She shook off his hand on her shoulder and shoots him a glare. She's clearly angry and deathly quiet, so when she slams the car door to stew in the driver's seat, he lets her be.

"Trev."

He turns at the sound of Philip's voice.

"We don't have a medic anymore," Philip says, voice low. He stands against the back of the van, arms crossed with a duffel bag slung across one shoulder. "and Grace is in pretty bad shape."

Trevor turns to look at her. She's sitting with the door open, one leg out of the passenger seat of a small, four-door sedan, wincing and cursing to herself in the mirror as she wipes at the dried blood on her face. A torn package of wet wipes sits on the car floor.

"I can take care of it," says Trevor. "You should go with Carly. She shouldn't be alone right now."

Philip nods. "I was thinking the same thing. Will you be alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, don't worry about me." Trevor looks through the car window to check the time where it shone brightly from the dashboard. 8:47 PM.

Carly hasn't moved. "Just make sure she gets home safely."

A heavy silence falls over them.

"Should I take her back to Ops afterward?" asks Philip.

"I think that would be best." Trevor lets out a deep sigh. "I'll meet up with you there in a couple of hours, okay?"

Philip nods again, closing his eyes.

"I never thought this is how it would end," he says. "Do you know how long it'll take for MacLaren to change the timelines?"

Trevor doesn't reply, only shakes his head solemnly.

Philip looks at the ground, lips tightening. After a few seconds he clears his throat. "Here," he says, shifting his weight so that the duffel bag on his shoulder falls into his arms. He extends it out to Trevor. "Marcy's medical kit is in here. I thought we might need it."

Trevor nods and takes the bag onto his own shoulder. "Thanks, man. I'll see you soon. Stay with Carly."

As he crosses the parking lot, Trevor is vaguely aware of Philip knocking on the window before Carly unlocks the car door for him.

His footfalls echo against the asphalt as he approaches Grace's car.

She stiffens as he catches her eye in the side mirror, and throws a blood-streaked wet wipe on top of a growing pile.

Before he even comes to a full stop, she cuts him off. "I thought the Director would stop him."

Trevor doesn't move. "That isn't why I'm here."

She leans forward, partly to pull another wipe from the package and partly to wipe away a tear. It stings. She sniffs and starts to clean her cheek. "Then why are you here?"

"To help you with that," he responds, vaguely gesturing at the blood she was very ineffectively smearing down her cheek. He holds up the duffel bag in his hands "I have Marcy's medical kit."

"Oh," she says, looking down. "I can do it myself."

Trevor nods. "I bet you can." He doesn't move.

Grace shoots him a glare, but her face softens when she sees the sincerity in his eyes.

"Fine," she tells him, eyes lowered. "Door's unlocked."

Trevor walks around the back of the car. He lets his hand tap against the top of the trunk and the roof of the car before he opens the driver's side door.

"Keys are on the seat." Grace says before he sits on them. Trevor closes the car door.

He sets the duffel bag in his lap and unzips it. He sees a package of alcohol wipes. "Here, these will work better," he tells her as he hands them over.

"It's all I had in the car." She says, gently nudging the wet wipes away with her foot. She takes the package and rips it open.

It does work better. It stings like a bitch, but it takes the blood off her face.

Shit, it really stings. Grace tries not to wince.

"That looks like it hurts," Trevor says.

"You think?" Grace fires back snarkily. She immediately regrets her tone and looks over at him. He's looking down at her keychain, expression hard to read.

"It's really not that bad," she says, and then instantly regrets it when she swipes at the top of her forehead and a spike of pain shoots throughout her nerves. She breathes out. "I'll live, but uh... Marcy got anything for pain in there?"

Trevor doesn't respond to her question. "You shouldn't have had to go through that."

Grace glances at him, and notices his grip on the keys is white-knuckled. She takes a deep breath in, and then after she releases it, she reaches over to close the passenger door. She turns to look at him.

"I'm so sorry about Marcy," she tells him. She blinks hard, as if that's enough to shake away the image of her death. It isn't, of course. "It was horrible."

Trevor is still quiet and unreadable. He looks into the bag and reaches in. He pulls out a small syringe filled with clear fluid. Another rummage, then the flick of a cap and a small snap as he attaches the needle. He looks over as she holds it out to her. Grace's heart sinks at the misty, faraway look she catches before he blinks it away - that shit feeling she knows all too well of having yet something loved ripped away, all too soon and so unfairly.

"Not much we can do now," he says. His dismissive tone comes off as deflective, but Grace decides that she doesn't want to talk about it, either. "That's for the pain."

"Oh," she says, taking it. "Thanks." His fingers brush against hers when he hands it off, and Grace decidedly ignores the tingle it sends through her bones.

She sticks it in the side of her arm before she can psych herself out and releases the plunger. The fluid inside is cold, and it forces an involuntary shiver. The pinprick of the syringe needle instantly dulls, as does the throbbing in her head and on her face. She sighs in relief.

She drops the syringe in the cupholder between the seats, and wipes at the cut on her forehead again. There's a slight twinge, but the pain is bearable.

"Can we just get out of here?" Grace asks after a few seconds of silence. She looks over to meet his eyes. "I know you know where I live."

He looks almost caught off guard, but nods anyway.. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

Handing her the duffel bag, he fumbles with the keys before he manages to stick them in the ignition. The car starts with a low rumble, seatbelt signal beeping; Grace switches off the light on the roof before she fastens her belt.

She feels self-consciousness wash over her when she checks over her shoulder to make sure that he does the same.

Most of the ride is quiet. There really isn't that much to say and neither of them are in a talking mood anyway. Grace uses the light of the street lamps and passing headlights to see as she digs around in the bag, shuffling through meticulously . Eventually, she finds the band-aids she was looking for.

There's a small light next to the mirror under the sun shade, and it's enough light that she see well enough to stick them over the broken skin. She presses down next to the bandage only to find that most of the pain has faded, and she's actually quite numb.

Trevor glances over at her while she's putting them on, and again when she slumps back in her seat. Her eyes are downcast, and he hopes that it's just drowsiness from the pain-reliever.

Grace flicks her arm with her fingernail. She barely feels it.

"Do you know how long this'll last?" she asks.

He looks ahead. "12 hours, give or take. You can take more for when it wears off."

He knows that's not entirely what she's talking about, but his brain is still reeling. He focuses his line of vision of the road, but as he fights a tremble in his fingers, he's starting to wonder if he can even comfort himself. At some point, a nervous chill runs down his spine. He checks the time at 9:24 PM.

* * *

The air sends a chill across Trevor's skin. The temperature drops at night to where it's cold in the dark, especially in the shadow of the outside stairwell leading up to Grace's apartment, even with a jacket. The hallway up to her door isn't any better. He shoves his hands into his pockets.

Grace unlocks the door, but doesn't push it open just yet. She looks up at Trevor.

"Stay for a while?" she asks.

Trevor exhales. "Okay, for a little while."

Grace opens the door, and heat floods over the both of them. He follows her inside and closes the door after him. It's a small apartment, divided into three sections with large archways in lieu of doors or hallways. Despite its size, it's still decently upscale, almost Modernist and somehow very 027 in the way there were little touches of her like the one, two, three computers he spots, not to mention the various gadgets and tools surrounding an important-looking desktop screen that certainly didn't belong in the 21st century.

Grace crosses into the bedroom area to kick her shoes off while Trevor takes off his coat and drapes it over the only dining chair in the apartment. He feels a twinge of sadness for her, and regrets not visiting before. He looks back at her.

She's in the process of throwing her jacket onto a rolling chair in the bedroom, and almost jumps when she notices his gaze.

"You can sit down if you want," she says nervously. She isn't an experienced hostess, and from the programming bits spread around on the floor and the high-piled dishes in the kitchen sink, it's clear.

"No, I'm alright," he says, but he does cross to lean against the archway in the entry to the room with her bed. The room looks smaller now that he's up close. Besides the bed, there's only room for a bookshelf, bedside table, and somehow she'd managed to cram in a desk and the computer chair that her jacket was hanging off of, but there wasn't much room to stretch out.

After taking a few steps closer to him, arms crossed in front of her, Grace looks up nervously.

"Can I get you anything? Water?" she offers.

Trevor shakes his head. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

She scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm not thrilled about our timeline being overwritten by the Director but I'm trying to roll with the punches."

He cracks a smile. "No, it's not ideal, is it?" A beat passes. "There's a lot that isn't ideal right now, though."

Grace's hand fidgets nervously as she reaches out to touch his shirt. The fabric folds at her touch, and her thumb brushes against a button. "We could make the best of the situation," she says.

She hates how much it sounds like a question. Her grip slackens.

Trevor takes a moment to meet her eyes, trying to figure out her intentions.

"Grace," he starts slowly.

She can see the wheels turning in his head and the indecision flitting across his eyes. It's basically the end of the world and definitely the end of their lives, at least as they experience it. So, fuck it, she decides.

No hesitation, she rises up on the balls of her feet and kisses him full on the mouth.

Trevor doesn't pull away. Grace is a little shocked by that, and confidence surges into her chest. Emboldened, she kisses him again deeper, hand wandering across his chest.

"Stay the night," she whispers as soon as she breaks away.

He doesn't push her off, but he doesn't give her any proper response either. For a brief second she wonders if he's having a blackout, and her eyes flit down to the implant behind his ear.

"It's not the aphasia," he clarifies, and then he looks down. "I'm just thinking."

Grace bites her lower lip. She grasps at his shirt, and takes another step forward so that she's up against him.

Her voice is soft. "Please, just once before the end."

It's not the way she wants for it to happen but at this point it seems there's no Director and no hope and in that case, no point in denying herself what she wants. With the concept of death looming over her and the panic of the unknown creeping in, there's really only one thing that she wants to happen.

Trevor is still hesitant.

"Grace, I -" he says, "I won't leave if you don't want me to, but I'm not sure-"

She interrupts him. "Then stay."

Her lips are on his again. Her hands wander down his chest to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. She breaks away from the kiss to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Grace, hold on. We don't know how long we have." Trevor protests, but gulps when he feels blood rush below the belt when he feels her fingers brush against his skin.

She undoes the last button on his shirt and gently nudges him in the direction of the bed. He obliges.

"Carly and Philip are back at Ops, right?" Grace asks.

"Yeah, they will be soon. I should be there with them. The Director…"

Grace manages to pull her shirt over her head. He averts his eyes, but he's already half-hard from seeing her out of the corner of his eyes.

"The Director isn't here." she interrupts, hair mussed. "I turned off our cell phones during the drive over and I disabled the camera on that hunk of central processing crap weeks ago." She pauses to haphazardly toss the shirt across the laptop screen for emphasis. She smirks a little bit at his raised eyebrow. "All of them, I promise. The Director won't have access to what it can't see. And your teammates will be fine for a few hours"

"What about MacLaren?," Trevor says as he involuntarily glances at the time flashing in the barely-visible corner her laptop's idle animation. 10:03 PM. The nervous chills spread throughout his body once again. "He was sent back to 2001 - is this where you want to be when our timeline is overwritten?"

Trevor looks back at her, and his eyes instantly drift down to her breasts spilling out of her bra. He immediately looks away, his face flushing.

"Oh come on," she laughs. "The changes he makes won't take effect for as long as it takes his consciousness to reach September. I already told you all of this."

With that, she takes a step toward him and straddles his lap in one swift movement, catching him off guard. She pushes his shirt off his shoulders, and he falls back onto his elbows shaking it all the way off his arms, only to find himself staring into the cleavage he had pointedly avoided moments before.

Grace hovers dangerously close to his now fully-formed erection, and breathless, all Trevor can manage to say in response is a strained "Huh?"

The corner of Grace's mouth twitches into a smirk. "In the lab. The amplitude of space-time distortion is proportional to distance."

Trevor manages to pry his eyes away from her chest back to her eyes.

"We sent him to August. It takes time for past decisions to affect the timeline we're experiencing. The space-time continuum won't be affected before the night is over. We do not have to rush, Trev…" she says. She shifts forward as she leans in to kiss him, and Trevor groans against her when she brushes against the pronounced bulge in his pants.

He feels Grace's breath catch against his lips. She lifts herself up to look down at the bulge against his thigh. Her smile widens. "You might not last that long anyway from the look of things so far."

He wants to pull her back on top of him and kiss her again, but she beats him to it. She pointedly grinds her hips into the tent in his pants, eliciting a groan from Trevor.

She leans in, and he rises up to meet her lips. Trevor places his hands on her waist both to steady her and to draw her closer in.

Grace breaks the kiss and dips her head down next to his ear. "Also, yeah. We're counting the hours to our existence in this timeline being erased and this is exactly where I want to be." While she speaks, she reaches in between them to unbuckle and pull at the buckle of his belt.

She sits up, still grinding slowly against his erection. Trevor gasps and bites the inside of his bottom lip as he looks up at her. The friction combined with the sight of Grace flustered and heaving, pulling his belt from the loops and unfastening his pants leaves him straining against the fabric. She notices his gaze and a soft smile blooms on her face. In a motion that seems more girlish and demure than she would ever willingly let on, Grace blushes and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

A smile splits across his face. His heart softens.

"You really are something else," Trevor says, affection filling his voice.

One of his hands slides down her waist and across her ribs until it braces against her stomach.. Goosebumps rise on her skin in the wake of his path. Grace shivers as he toys with the waistband of her pants. .

"Well, what can I say?" she mumbles, visibly embarrassed - but with no lack of her usual attitude.

It's actually the end. He's cheated death for hundreds of years and he's always kept on living, but now he's faced with a certainty of death that even Grace accepts as inescapable. So, yeah, he thinks similarly. Fuck it.

Trevor undoes the fastening on her pants. "You should take them off," he tells her breathlessly.

Grace is off him in an instant, taking her underwear down with her pants as she rips them onto her thighs. Trevor does the same, kicking them off his legs and over the side of the bed. He yanks his socks off. Grace unhooks her bra and tosses it without regard onto the floor next to her balled-up pants. She flops down, bouncing as her ass hits the mattress.

Trevor crawls up the bed, and she sinks into the mattress beneath him. He dips down to kiss her, deeply. Her eyes flutter closed as she feels his hand wander up the tops of her upper thigh. She lets her legs fall apart.

When Trevor breaks the kiss, he plants one last tiny smooch on the corner of her lips before he shifts down on the mattress. He kisses in between her breasts and strokes the inside of her thighs. Grace feels like she's liquefying, moving like putty in his arms. She presses her lips together as heat pools in between her thighs.

"That painkiller won't numb this, will it?" she asks. It comes off as timid.

Trevor smiles ever so slightly. "Might even make it better."

His lips move down to kiss her stomach, and she gasps. Then they trail downward past the jut of her hip. Along her bikini line. Grace bites her lip when his fingers ghost between her thighs. Her legs widen, eyes screwed shut.

A tiny voice in the back of her head screams triumphantly at the sight of Trevor lowering his head down between her legs. He's strong, and young, and so handsome and oh God, now he's pushing her legs up and her knees are on his shoulders. She feels almost lightheaded, robbed of strength. Never would Grace admit this, but she's secretly thrilled when he takes control of the situation, his hands grasping either side of her hips and lifting them up to his face.

She can't fight back the whimper that rises in her throat when she feels his lips and tongue press against her. She grasps at the bedsheets below as Trevor holds her in place. He moves slowly at first, cautiously. His tongue glides in light circles with nowhere near enough pressure, occasionally lapping at the moisture below.

Part of what drew her to Trevor (more specifically, 0115) was the gentleness in his touch despite the strength of his host. But as she squirms in his arms, desperate, she finds herself in earnest for him to utilize it.

"Trevor," she breathes. It's quiet, but the intention in her voice is clear.

Long, slow licks grow quicker and more purposeful. It becomes clear that he was holding out on her when he flattens his tongue to swipe against her clit. Grace gasps as he changes his focus, and feels a dangerous curl deep in her lower belly.

The wetness that gathers on Trevor's tongue makes the friction soft and indirect, but the increased pressure is everything she needed. Her toes curl and she flushes when she looks down at him buried in her thighs. God, she needed this. It really is a shame all of these feelings have to be mixed up with the prospect of dying, she thinks.

Grace's mind goes completely blank when his tongue slips inside of her. It's so brief and shallow that she can't be sure that it's even intentional, but the feeling is enough to make her groan. Hands fly to clutch at hair too short to pull at. Her fingers splay in it nonetheless, bent in opposite ways at both knuckles as she scrambles for purchase.

"Mmfmph," she says, although she's sure that she had intended to form actual words.

Trevor lifts his head to meet her eyes, curious. Grace immediately whines.

"No, no, please," she says frantically, blunty dragging her fingertips down his scalp. She doesn't even try to suppress the pleading look in her eyes. "Please don't stop."

The expression on his face before his head drops back down absolutely mortifies Grace for the 0.5 seconds it takes for Trevor's tongue to slip inside of her. She pulls a hand away from his head to bite at her index finger. His lips close around her, brushing her clit. A shiver runs down her spine. Mouth falling open as his tongue presses deeper inside, she suddenly feels like she needs so much more than just the inch he's giving her.

Grace is aware that she's panting, and in a manner that borders on frenzied. She doesn't care, especially when the warmth of his tongue shifts back up to her clit. He alternates between that and nudging inside of her. It makes her abdomen burn with desire, and even with Trevor's arms holding her hips in place they still rock on their own accord.

He's good at keeping up. His tongue swipes back and forth across her clit again, faster this time. And with that, Grace knows that she's done for. The pressure in her lower belly finally swells to its breaking point. She's coming before she even realizes she's close, and she has no time to blurt out a warning when her thighs begin to shake. Trevor eases up.

His tongue traces soft figure-eights in between her legs until her breathy moans slow to a long, pleased sigh. When he lifts his head, Grace is both thrilled and mortified to notice that his mouth and chin are glistening with slick.

Trevor kisses the inside of her thigh before he pulls away. He wipes the moisture on the back of his hand, crawling up her body. She meet his lips to kiss him hungrily, and her legs are still shaking. Trevor seems to notice her balance is off - he grabs her waist to steady her. She holds onto the tops of his arms, and she tastes herself on his tongue. It sends an erotic thrill through her bones.

"Come on," she whispers between kisses, "Come on."

Her hand reaches between them to grasp at the base of his cock, and she relishes in the small grunt he lets out as his head drops down to her chest. She lines it up with her entrance and brings it inside of her, slowly so that she can really feel it. The thick head presses into her and she holds her breath. A lump of anticipation sits in her throat.

"Wait -" he says, and to her utmost disappointment, pulls out of her.

Grace exhales in frustration. An involuntary whine escapes her throat.

"No, no. Please. Put it in," she whimpers, and hates how much it sounds like begging.

Trevor pushes himself up. He clears his throat awkwardly.

"I don't have any protection," he tells her sheepishly.

Grace wants to rip her hair out. "That's literally the last thing I'm worried about right now."

"Protocol 4," he says. He averts his eyes.

She doesn't want Trevor to pull away from her. Her fingers instinctively tighten around his arms.

"Protocol Omega," she retorts.

His gaze snaps back, bewildered. "Protocol Omega?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Grace's cheeks burn, and it's her turn to look away.

Trevor processes her words for a moment.

"I'm just surprised to hear that from you," he says finally.

She ignores him.

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and Grace can't help but feel the muscles in her cheeks twitch up into a smile. He kisses her again.

After an amount of time that feels quite honestly agonizing, Trevor's hand wanders down her hip. His thumb strokes against her hip bone.

"Are you sure?" he asks softly.

She looks back at him, and a burning desire washes through her when she sees the lust in his eyes. "God, yes," is her immediately reply. She wiggles her hips.

She welcomes his kiss, only breaking their connection when she gasps after he scoops her up, seemingly effortlessly. He lowers her down onto the mattress as gently as if she's made of glass.

Finally, finally, she feels him reach down to press his cock against her. He rubs up and down her slit, gliding through wet folds and then up and… infuriatingly, doesn't put it in. Yet Grace quickly decides that this slip-and-slide of his shaft against her is actually quite nice.

Pride snatches the moan out of her throat, but she can't help but indulge the physiological need to wrap her arms around him. She clutches him tightly.

Trevor deepens the kiss. His hips rock against hers, grinding, but not nearly as hard as she wants him to. Impatient and writhing, Grace bucks her hips upwards.

"Shit," she breathes, breaking away, "would you put it in already?!"

He doesn't give her a response, only buries his head down into her shoulder. She notices that he's breathing just as raggedly as she is.

With every slow thrust of his hips, Grace becomes more aware of the emptiness gnawing inside of her. She feels the heat in her cheeks grow hotter yet. Fuck, how long will he make her wait? Even now that she's finally underneath him, her breasts pressed up against his body and so painfully close to being having her inside of him, she still doesn't get the release she so desperately wants. Her hips roll against him, hard.

"You are absolutely insufferable," she tells him, nails digging into his skin "Stop teasing me like this, please.. Oh God I cannot believe that you're making me be-beg - ohhh…" her voice wavers into a moan, her eyes rolling back into her head after Trevor adjusts and slowly pushes his cock inside of her.

He laughs softly and brings a hand up to cup her face. "I've found that patience is rewarding."

"Shut the fuck up," Grace mutters, but she leans into his touch anyway. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his (delightful) thickness spreading her apart in the best way.

It's a big dick. Damn, is it big... For a fleeting moment she understands his host's vapid teenage girlfriend. All at once, she gets it. The stretch is excellent - almost too much to bear at once but the burn is electrifying.

This is what she wanted. Through all the gentle gestures and heart-to-hearts, and through the earlier caresses and kisses, this is where she always wanted to end up. She deeply values all of the respect and caring, but the unending dances around intimacy but never quite getting there, not like this, made her restless. Her back arches and she presses her torso flush against him. The warmth and inwardness of his chest against her sends a jolt through her.

"Shit," she whispers, more to herself than anyone else. "Shit."

She feels like she's melting. Trevor's body holding her in place is the only thing that tethers her to reality. For a brief moment, she doesn't think about the burdens of the 21st century, or of the ones from 25th, for that matter.

Molten heat pools in her lower abdomen. She tilts her hips to give him better access, and groans when his cock slips in another full inch. She turns her head to have him pull her into a full kiss.

His tongue still tastes like her, Grace is pleased to realize. It snakes against hers and runs along the back of her teeth. His hips move harder, driving deeper into her, and his arms pull her down onto him repeatedly. Small moans escape her lips.

Trevor, for one, is very fond of it. He actually has to fight the urge to kiss her again in the fear that he won't hear these sounds from her again. He touches her face, gaze soft. She's so unfiltered, with emotions so raw. Her eyebrows are knitted together, eyelids glued shut. He feels her clench down around him.

"Hold on," she manages to get out, and Trevor slows as soon as she does. What she actually wants to say is that she doesn't want to come again so soon, that she feels vulnerable and out of control. But she's already humiliated about coming so quickly the first time, and so mortified by the state she's been reduced to that instead, what she says is:

"Let me get on top."

Trevor can hear the desperation in her voice. He doesn't hesitate to lift her from where she lies. Grace prays with everything in her that he doesn't slip out.

He doesn't. He flips around to rest his back on the headboard, and she scrambles for purchase on the mattress to straddle him.

She has her arms pinned between their bodies, hands cupping his face. Grace meets his eyes for a long moment. When she leans back in, she kisses him with a passion and intensity that he isn't quite prepared for.

Trevor finds himself drawn into her for that moment, and it throws him off rhythm. Only for a moment, but it's enough for Grace to take control. She sinks down hard To her delight, he moans.

She rolls her hips in slow, languid motions that make his eyes roll back into his skull. His hands slide down her waist, slowly over the curve of her ass to tightly grip her thighs. She slams down onto him, and Trevor gasps in both pleasure and concern.

He breaks away from her lips, intending to pull back, tell her to slow down, not to hurt herself, but before he can get anything out, Grace's lips are crashing against his again, her arms extending to brace against his shoulders for support.

Her pace quickens. When she finally pulls away she presses her forehead to his, breathing hard. Something inside Trevor reboots, and he starts to move against her again. Her breath hitches, nails digging into him.

He leans his head against her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against her skin. Grace exhales hard as she grips his shoulders more tightly, riding as if her life depended on it. Their bodies move against each other in a desperate, almost frantic give-and-take. It's erotic and intimate and passionate and so much like her and unlike her all at once, and it's nothing like he's ever experienced before. He can't help but slow down and take her face in his hands and kiss her tenderly, with care and intention.

Grace stills to almost a stop, kissing him back softly, almost hesitantly at first. Trevor's hand wanders to thread his fingers through her hair, and the ice inside of her melts. She rises and falls atop him gently, small noises escaping from her lips. Her grip on Trevor's shoulders softens.

The kiss is long and deep, and for a few moments, it makes them both forget that the world as they experience it was about to end. Grace is the one to pull away.

"You had better not ruin this and say that you love me," she whispers, eyes wide with something akin to fear.

Trevor is silent for a moment. "We've been through a lot together, Grace. I care about you in an important way. I won't tell you something you don't want to hear."

Her eyes deadpan, but after a beat or two she lets out a chuckle tinged with deeper emotion. She looks away, blinking hard. "I can't believe you just said that with your dick inside me."

"I could take it out?" Trevor offers, more as a question.

"Absolutely not," she says immediately, but still takes a moment to herself. She takes a deep breath, blinking hard before she manages to look at him again. Her face steels. "Lie down on your back."

Trevor lies down on his back.

He interlocks his fingers with hers while she settles into position. He uses his other hand to grasp the flesh of her upper thigh.

He doesn't expect her to kiss him again so soon, but he welcomes it wholeheartedly when she presses her lips to his. A curtain of dark hair falls to either side of their faces, tickling Trevor's cheek. He doesn't mind.

Grace tightens her hold on his hand as she sits back up. She arches her back as she sinks lower down onto him until she's completely bottomed out. Grace breathes in shakily, internal muscles clenching and fluttering. With little warning, she raises her hips and slams them back down, hard.

Her nails dig into Trevor's hand and they both audibly gasp.

"Don't hurt yourself," he cautions. Despite his protests, she does it again. For a moment, worry overrides the pleasure vibrating in his skin.

"Please," Grace scoffs, and bottoms out again in what feels like emphasis, "I'm not made of glass."

Trevor grips her waist with a shaky hand. "No kidding."

Trevor can't stop his hips from bucking up into her. It makes her gasp. She grinds down on him with every fall of her hips, eyes slipping closed as she builds a slow but consistent rhythm.

As she grinds her pelvis into his, squeezing down and dragging her hips up slowly, he begins to tremble. His body is white-hot, and every sensation is amplified to an overwhelming amplitude. He wants to hold her closer.

It's like Grace can read his thoughts. Her spine bends as she hunches over, cupping his face with her free hand. Trevor squeezes her hand as he pulls her into a kiss.

He's breathing raggedly, chest heaving. The way she's sliding against him and bouncing up and down without abandon makes a muscle deep in his abdomen curl, his skin alight. Grace comes up for air, just long enough to look him in the eyes. There's a fire behind them, raging with determination and shit, she's the most resolute person he's ever met. She likes to get what she wants and she works hard for it - and she's about to get her way again.

"Grace-"

It feels like all the air rushes out of his lungs, and his mouth drops open, eyes screwed shut. He comes hard, his vision going white and his fingers dig into his thighs. Grace presses small kisses to his cheeks and the corner of his lips. She still thrusts forward on top of him, albeit with less momentum. It's so much feeling that it's almost too much, but it's so much better when she touches her forehead to his. It's tender and the gentleness is almost unlike her, but it's so human, and genuine.

He draws in a deep and much needed breath. When he opens his eyes, he sees that Grace is already looking at him. There's a deep softness in her eyes that he's only seen on the rarest of occasions. His already soft heart turns to mush. She leans forward, and he helps guide her so that his cock slips out of her. She falls forward onto his chest, letting out a small gasp. Suddenly terrified at the thought of leaving bruises, he pulls his hands away from her thigh.

Instead, Trevor pulls her into a hug. Burying his face into her hair, he takes another deep and shaky breath.

He can feel her smiling.

Grace lies there for a long time. Excitement in her stirs when she feels his come dripping out of her and onto her inner thigh, but she ignores it in favor of the pleasant sensation of Trevor's strong arms around her. Her brain floods with endorphins and she feels silly and overemotional, but she also feels more bonded than she ever has to someone who wasn't made out of code.

When they finally move, their skin unsticks. Trevor looks her up and down, first checking her thighs for bruises (red marks yes, but it look as if it'll fade), and then at the spots of blood seeping through the bandages on her cheek and forehead. His hands touch their oulinte on her face, concern etched into his expression.

"Does it hurt?" he asks

Grace's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "No?"

Why now? her expression says.

Trevor just shakes his head. He looks worried until she plants a kiss on his cheek.

He looks at her, and then leans in for a kiss full on the mouth. Grace grinds her hips into his instinctively. As she pushes herself upright moments later, a stiffening against her thigh leads her to notice that he's starting to get hard again.

"Wow," she says, face breaking out in a grin. "Already?"

Trevor flushes. Goddamn teenage body.

"The refractory period this body has is quite, uh-" he starts, the flush on his cheeks spreading.

"Admirable, really," Grace interrupts. She dismounts from Trevor's lap, situating herself further down on the bed. Trevor instinctively opens his legs to accommodate her.

"I was going to say something more along the lines of 'persistent.'" he says. He does his best to keep his composure, but can't help the trembling in his thighs when Grace places a hand on either of them.

She raises her eyebrows and shrugs in response. One hand stays firmly placed on his left thigh while the other grasps at the base of his cock. Grace lets out a low, impressed chuckle as she sizes it up in her hand. She strokes it to full hardness, slowly but with determination.

Trevor gulps. Her forwardness leaves his mouth dry.

His brain wipes clean at the sight of her lips closing over the head. All he can focus on is the molten heat of her mouth and the swirling of her tongue around him. Her cheeks hollow.

Grace's fingers press into the skin of his thigh when she takes him in deeper. Her throat opens around him, and she wills herself to resist the urge to gag.

She pulls her head back up. Spit coats her bottom lip as she makes eye contact. It sends a burn through him. She lowers her head down again to press an open-mouthed kiss along the side of the shaft, and then back up again to take the length back in her throat. The bobbing continues at a steady pace, and her hand takes care of what her lips don't cover.

Trevor wants to hold her again. His hands ball into fists, one of them taking a fistful of the sheets with him.

"Oh damn," he says when her tongue wraps around him in a particularly delightful way, "Oh-"

His voice is raspy. He sits up on his elbows, eyes glued to the connection between them. .

Grace lifts her head again. Before he knows it, her hand and the warmth of her mouth is gone, and she's pulling on his arm to flip him next to her.

"Come back," she tells him, "On top."

As if he needs clarification. He leans over her on his elbows and knees, and he can't help but smile when she reaches out for him. Trevor leans into her, pulling their bodies together.

She reaches between them to angle his cock inside of her. It slips in with ease and none of the gut-punch from first time. Grace sighs in contentment, and shifts under him to wrap her arms around his neck. Her nails drag lightly across his upper back. Trevor shivers.

"Don't hold back," Grace tells him, eager, but also deadly serious. "You understand?"

He nods, and starts to move inside her. Grace doesn't expect him to give her the rough sex that her bucking hips and mooney eyes imply she wants, but it doesn't stop her from pulling him in closer to her in earnest.

Their lips meet, softly at first. He kisses her sweetly and gently. His tongue swipes against hers, and she tilts her head to reciprocate. Between deeper kisses, he presses tiny pecks against the corner of her lips and her cupid's bow. Grace marvels, annoyed beyond belief but also at how even when she gives him full permission to wreck her, he's still so patient and gentle.

She wraps her legs around Trevor's waist, angling her hips upwards to give him more access. A grateful moan escapes her when he (praise whatever higher power) takes advantage of the newfound position. His hips snap forward into her, and it isn't quite as hard as she quite would ideally want it but, holy shit she can't complain because she swears she's seeing stars.

When he slams into her again, it happens again. Electricity curls inside her like in a Tesla coil, and she's arching her back and making her clamp her inner muscles around him like a vice. His pace falters just the slightest bit, but Grace digs her fingernails into his shoulders.

"Fuckdon'tstop," she gasps. Her lower back arches up to keep him close.

Trevor drops his head down to nuzzle against her cheek, eyes shut. He exhales hard as he keeps up his tempo. She's moving against him, and he isn't sure if it's because he hasn't touched anyone since his wife or because the world's ending or because of how he can't stop thinking about how she looked on top of him and with her lips wrapped around him, but he can't imagine anything could pry him away from her embrace at this point. His arms cradle her, and he uses the leverage to help her bounce against him from below.

Grace's heart beats in her chest like a hummingbird's. Her heels dig into whichever part of his body they're up against - between their constant movement and the fact that they've both worked up quite a sweat, she can barely tell what's what and where her own body ends.

Another thrust and grind of her hips and Trevor chokes on a noise that he tries his best to muffle. A dark shiver trickles up his spine, and his knees threaten to buckle entirely. He's close, and judging from the ever-building pressure in his balls, it's going to be soon.

He wants her to come again first. His fingers grip her hard, digging into her flesh. Grace stiffens for a moment, but relaxes as soon as his lips press into hers once again. He holds her close to him and thrusts with a newfound power.

"Shit," she says, and in the brief moment that they lock eyes, she sees the look on his face. It's glazed over but just as sharp as usual, and not anything like he's ever looked at her with before. It makes all the strength in her body dissipate. She feels limp as a ragdoll, and gives herself over fully to him. Her legs fall open as wide as she can manage, and she feels her nails rake down his shoulders.

Oh, fuck, she thinks, oh fuck, finally. She wants to raise her hips to meet his but she can't find the strength now that he's slamming into her at full force. It fulfills a deep, primal urge inside of her. The coils of pleasure inside of her burn and spark, and she clings to him as a lifeline when the electricity inside of her explodes outward in waves of hot, white light. Her vision blurs and her throat constricts around the words that she's trying to form, and she has no idea what she would have said anyway because everything in her brain suddenly wipes away as every neuron fires and makes every rational thought go out the window and she starts to come.

As soon as he feels her rhythmically clamp down around him, he loses it. He hilts himself inside her; the pulsing tightness around him is enough to push him over the edge he's been teetering on for so long. He screws his eyes shut when he comes, hard, inside of her. He presses his lips together to suppress a choked moan. He softens his hold on her - returning to his initial gentle embrace.

Grace sighs. She brushes tousled hair back in place, pushing it away from where it stuck to her damp forehead. She can still feel him twitching inside her. One of her hands reaches to run through his hair.

She isn't embarrassed to admit that she's disappointed when he pulls out, or even that she misses the feeling. Her legs close on instinct, and she's about to sit up but before she can, Trevor places a hand on her hip. She looks up only to have him come down to her level. He lies down beside her on his side to rest his chin on her shoulder, arm wrapped around her.

Cuddling? Now that, she's embarrassed by.

Trevor's looking directly at her, and she's caught between turning away anyway and killing herself on the spot. Her cheeks burn.

"We don't have to talk," he says gently, and for a moment, curiosity overtakes her embarrassment, and Grace looks at him. The look in his eyes is soft.

She turns away from him, but she presses her ass securely into his lap, and when his arm tightens around her waist, she rests her own atop it to draw him closer. He scoots and buries his face in her hair. It's warm and soft and she feels almost as connected to him as she did a minute ago when he was inside of her, and it's totally sappy and not something she ever would have expected to feel - but then again, she never thought she would be in this situation to begin with.

It's really nice.

Grace decides that even though she's still embarrassed, she does like to cuddle - especially when Trevor's other arm that stretched above her reached down to find her free hand and clasp it.

They stay like that for a while. For the first time that night, Trevor doesn't check the time, or worry about things beyond his control. He lets himself be drawn into the warmth of Grace's body and the silent comfort of her presence.

At some point, just as her breathing evens and Trevor thinks she's fallen asleep, she speaks with a voice so soft it's barely audible.

"Are you going to leave?"

Trevor rubs his thumb along where it sits on her stomach.

"Not before the morning."

Grace turns her head, and Trevor sits up halfway to meet her gaze.

"What about your team?"

He cracks a smile. "You're right. They'll be fine without me for a few hours."

Grace smiles back, mostly because she loves to be right. But a twinge in her heartstrings reminds her that it isn't that black and white. She wants to deflect, make a joke or snide comment, but she's so happy that she doesn't have to get through the night on her own that she decides instead to say:

"Yeah, okay."

She surprises herself when she turns to lie on her back again, and even more so when she instinctively strokes his hair after Trevor curls into her, resting his head on her shoulder. He reaches down to grab the blanket shoved against the foot of her bed and drapes it across her body and his own. It's only a twin size, but their close proximity makes it more than enough to cover the both of them.

Grace leans in to touch her cheek to his forehead. He nuzzles against her, arm snaking around her waist. Without thinking, she plants a kiss along his hairline. Blood rushes into her cheeks in response to his faint hum of appreciation. Trevor shifts slightly, his hand trailing along her stomach to settle draped over her side.

At some point, Grace reaches to switch the lamp off. He stirs next to her and his hand wanders down her side, securing his hold on her. It tickles. She places her hand on top of Trevor's; her fingers slip between to loosely intertwine with his. It isn't clear to her whether he's sleeping or not for a long while, until he's almost still and his only movements are the twitches of his hand in hers.

The sound of the heater whirring can be heard throughout the apartment, but Grace is the only one who can hear the long, shallow echoes of Trevor's breath against her skin. Sleep creeps into the corners of her vision and tugs at her eyelids. She initially tries to fight it, wanting to enjoy the time she has while it lasts.

Yet in the moment, Grace can't help but give in to the effects of the warmth and comfort in human contact - the benefits of which had largely been lost on her for the majority of her life.

Maybe it was because of the ambiguity of their future, or maybe it's because Trevor's breathing is slowed and gentle and he's holding her so closely. Maybe it's the endorphins still swimming around in her head, and maybe it's just wishful thinking, but Grace decides that regardless of what happens to her, she's happy, even if it is in a way she never considered before the 21st.

She can feel the corners of her lips twitch into a smile of contentment.

Her last thought before sleep takes her is that maybe it isn't the worst way to go out.

* * *

**A/N: **

** watch?v=IwQbXrwYZAg**

** watch?v=g71is3QX8ao**

**please let me know that i'm not alone this is my message in a bottle**


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